


Brothers

by Wallyallens



Series: small steps home [5]
Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, brothers and sisters fighting mobsters, just family things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallyallens/pseuds/Wallyallens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Red Hood is going to kill Black Mask, or he was, but then his pain-in-the-ass sort of sister gets in the way. Or, Jason and Cass meet in odd ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers

_But growing up my parents saw_  
_What sending a kid to fight can really do_  
_Now with the war I can tell they're a little shook up_  
_'Cause just a few mother's sons will never really be enough_  
Not 'til half of our names are etched out in a wall  
_And the other half ruined from the things we saw_

“No.”

Jason heard the voice, the force behind it like thunder, and the next thing he was aware of was lying on the ground. Back to the concrete, he dazedly tapped a button on the side of his hood to retract it, blinking away stars to get a better of view of the warehouse around him.

From the distant sound of screaming, he knew not much time had passed. He must have been unconscious long enough to fall, but there was no damage – as the ringing in his ears stopped, Jason rolled to his side, pushing himself up to his feet and fully recovered by the time he got there. Alert at once, his hands fell to his sides.

“Where are you?” Jason shouted, not bothering to ask who. 

This had ‘bat’ written all over it, although the voice had been off – it held the right tone and roughness, but there was something un-Bruce about it. It was quieter; more feminine, laced with firmness but not the abject disappointment in his once-father’s voice. That, at least, was something constant in Bruce. 

Conclusion: not Bruce. But definitely a Bat. Nobody else could hide from him and melt into the shadows so seamlessly. 

Although he turned in a slow circle, Jason could see no one but himself and Black Mask, who was hanging from a nearby rusted post, chains biting into his skin to hold him aloft. After the beating Jason has spent the evening delivering, the man was bloody, one eye swollen shut and still letting out long wails of pain from the piece of glass implanted through his palm. It had been aimed at his heart, but then Jason’s mystery pain-in-the-ass had intervened and thrown off his aim. 

The hands at his sides twitched, fingers dancing their way across his belt, searching for his holsters without ever having to risk averting his eyes to find them. His fingertips wandered, barely touching the tough material or blades stashed there before moving on, trying to look casual so no one would be able to guess what he was planning to do without the actual ability to read his mind – which he wasn’t ruling out as a possibility. The amount of metas in Gotham was significantly lower than other places, but not unheard of. 

“C’mon,” he tempted, lips twisting into what wasn’t quite a smirk, too uncertain in nature to hold the look of self-confidence he liked to project. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Underneath his fingers, Jason suddenly felt the cold of a gun. It send a shiver pulse of electricity up his entire arm, like a current through his veins, but even as it tensed to lift the weapon, he heard the rip of a cape cutting through the air and suddenly there was a deadweight on his back. It twisted his body so he stumbled, off his balance, leaping from it’s perch at the height of his disorientation and taking one of his gun’s with him.

Barely, Jason kept a grip of the other and raised it, knees instinctively bending into a defensive stance as he levelled it in the direction the figure had flown, letting off a warning shot. He was armed now. That made him more dangerous.

“Now we both know I’m not playing games anymore,” Jason said loudly, slowly rotating in a circle and twitching his gun hand for emphasis. Although he strained his eyes, the inky shadows revealed nothing about his stalker’s position. In the air, Black Mask’s ragged breathing an annoyance Jason desperately wanted to stop; aside from it there wasn’t a trace of footstep or breath. “I get it. You’re good. Is that what this is, huh? Are you trying to prove something – get into Batman’s good books by putting me down?”

“It’s a good plan,” he admitted, grinning wryly, “The old man probably wouldn’t care even if you killed me – oh wait, _no_. He’s got that stupid rule,” Jason spat the words out. Underneath the smugness, there was a bitterness in his tone. “But the others might be pissed.”

He paused his turning. Unsure what it was that compelled him to other than a strong gut feeling, he tilted the barrel of his gun to the ceiling in a peaceful gesture, grinning. “Didn’t you get the memo? We’re cool now; me and Nightwing and even Batgirl. At least, we don’t actively pick fights with each other anymore.”

“Not here to kill.”

The voice was so soft this time, he might have missed it if he wasn’t paying close enough attention. Jason’s head snapped towards the source, relieved to have his own words broken. He hated talking, but he needed answers: to determine motive and location. 

“Oh yeah? Why are you here then?”

“To stop you.”

Eyes narrowing, the red hood’s head drifted to the side, arm stretched ahead of him lowering an inch. Tongue swiping his bottom lip and tasting blood, Jason played for time, considering how to respond. The variables made no sense. There was an unidentifiable person, associated somehow with Batman, here to stop him from killing Black Mask. He did not know who they were or their skill level; a fight was not wise.

He holstered his gun.

“Okay,” Jason said, kicking the chain beside him where it met the wall in an iron loop, working as a pulley to hold the mobster aloft. With a loud crack which echoed through the space like a gunshot, the chain became lose and fed itself free, Black Mask landing on the concrete head first with a satisfying crack of skull and a groan.

“Oops,” Jason smirked, back to the villain but turning casually. “Sorry about that.”

“You little-”

A batarang struck the floor in front of Mask’s face, silencing him. Out of the shadows, a figure finally stepped – a slight girl all in black, outline of a yellow bat on her chest and face completely covered; but sewn crudely into the leather were two unseeing eyes and a mouth. It was something straight off a doll in a horror film, and downright creepy. Jason _loved_ it.

This was Black Bat, then. Bruce’s new pride-and-joy, the adopted daughter, the only Batgirl to live up to Barbara’s glory in Batman’s eyes, from what Steph had told him. Cassandra Cain. Raised by assassins but too perfect to ever need to drop a body. She was a story to tell at Arkham at bedtime to keep the criminals too scared to put a toe out of line, and kind of lived up to the legend.

“Leave.” 

There was that striking voice again, never saying a syllable more than she had to. Jason appreciated that – the others, they always wanted to talk. Talk about the past like it would change anything, the present like it would make a difference, all the stupid quips and _puns_ and joking – it was enough to drive a guy crazy. Ha. 

“Yeah, yeah, call me an ambulance. That’s what you ‘good guys’ do, isn’t it?” Black Mask sneered from the floor, trying to push himself up but his elbow collapsing under his own weight. “I’ll be back. And I’ll have that stupid hood of yours for this!”

“No.” Black Bat commanded, leaning over him, bent at the knee’s. Somehow, her tone had gotten colder than it already was, and Jason would have been shitting his pants in Mask’s place. “Leave town. Do not come back. I will know.”

“I’d listen to the lady, personally,” Jason supplied cheerily from behind her, not even trying to hide his glee at seeing Mask put in his place. Fingers resting on his face and running over the stubble there, he kept blandly grinning as he slowly began to walk backwards away from the scene, victorious attitude leaking off him in waves. “You really wouldn’t like her when she’s pissed off.”

Black Bat laughed at that, a noise he didn’t expect to sound quite so joyful, coming from her. It was high and light as she jumped into the air and vanished, Jason throwing one last wink in Black Mask’s direction before disappearing into the shadows, hearing a string of curses follow him.

Outside, he headed home. By ‘home’, he meant safe house, which was a mixture of prison cell and cheap motel room with its plain walls, bare essentials, and ornate mounted weapons on the wall. But it was his, it was starting to look lived-in, and he liked it.

Jason sat on the fire escape and just waited. He knew she’d come, after that. She was curious. Honestly, so was he. 

So the only reason he jumped when Black Bat arrived wasn’t because he wasn’t expecting her, but because he didn’t think it was humanly possible to move so damn quietly. One second there was no one on the fire escape with him as he sat with his feet over the edge, cigarette hanging over his lips and a lighter in his hands about to be used; the next the lighter was snatched from his grasp and there was a girl next to him.

“Will kill you,” she said, holding up the lighter and looking at the cigarette. Somewhere in between the time he had seen her last and now, Black Bat had removed the face part of her uniform, which hung loosely around her neck as she smiled at him in a challenging way. 

“Well, they’ll have to get in line,” he replied, pulling a different lighter from a different pocket and lighting up in under two seconds. Jason inhaled deeply, side-eyeing the girl next to him the entire time – with moves that fast, she could probably –

Even as he thought it, she moved, snatching the cigarette from between his lips and tossing it over the edge. The sharp lines of her face were thrown into stark contrast, half lit by the warm light from inside the safe house, half in Gotham’s darkness; her short-cut hair stayed in perfect shape even as she threw her head back in his direction, she was like a piece of abstract art – all angles and shape.

But man, her eyes threw that all out of the window. They spoke, even if she didn’t. 

Right now they were laughing, probably at the stupid look of shock he knew was on his face, a splash of amusement, a little triumph at getting rid of the cigarette, curiosity and – yes, there it was – wariness. Jason knew that while Black Bat was the horror story Gotham’s criminals told one another, he was Batman’s story to the rest of the family about what happens when you fail, when you don’t listen to orders, when you cross that un-crossable line. Since his return in every meeting with somebody associated with Batman, he had seen that same look. 

Jason sighed, wishing he still had his cigarette. From his perch on the red bars of the balcony/fire escape that hadn’t been used since the building was first opened, he pulled up his leg and looked out to the city. He could never escape the shadow of the damn Bat, not when that look existed.  
He spoke coldly, not looking at her. “What do you want, anyway? The fight’s over. Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”

“Here is good.” 

“‘Good’ is not the word I’d use,” Jason snorted. He had been trying to give her the brush off, give her the chance to walk away with nothing more said, no attachment or worse, coming to blows. But instead, he felt a body lean against the railing by his foot, looking up to see Black Bat leaning, eyes on the city ahead.

“It is good enough,” she replied. “This is a good view. You can see all of Gotham.”

“In all it’s disgusting glory, yeah. Sometimes I wish I couldn’t.”

“Then leave,” she replied. From anyone else, it would have been a spiteful statement. The words alone were a rejection, an order, something that could be laced with sarcasm or hatred as easily as breathing, but from her mouth, they didn’t sound that way. She sounded earnest in a way none of the family was with him – there was always awkward pauses, false reassurances that things were in the past that let him know the water under the bride was in fact a dam. Black Bat was still looking out at the city, the lights reflected in her eyes. “I did, for a while. Hong Kong. It . . . changed things. I knew after that Gotham was the only place I ever felt – home. At home.”

“I can’t,” he shook his head. “Someone’s got to see the dirty side of the city. Bruce sure as hell doesn’t.”

“He see’s more than you think.”

“Not in the same way.”

Black Bat finally looked up at him intently, blinking. She phrased the next part as a question. “Explain?”

“I see the streets, the alleys, the dark corners Batman forgets about. I guess it’s the effect of growing up in ‘em – but I see them differently than he does from up in his mansion, removed from the side of Gotham that doesn’t fit his shining ideals of a better world,” Jason cut himself off. At the beginning of his sentence, he had sounded in control and reasonable, but it had dissolved to a bitter tone – he didn’t want her to think of him like that. In his gut, Jason felt that if he explained it correctly, she would understand. “I live it. I’m here, when he isn’t. Even if you don’t agree with – with what I do, you have to agree that someone needs to be here for the places he deems below his attention. While he’s chasing after some fat cat Politian Dent’s trying to off, I’m on the street corners stopping dealing from going after kids. It’s different worlds.”

Black Bat hummed at that, bobbing her head in what he interpreted as a nod. Turning slowly back towards the city, she didn’t speak for a few minutes. “But . . . if you hate it . . . why do you fight for it?”

“Because it’s like you said, it’s home. I can’t get rid of that any more than I can my accent or this,” he tugged playfully at the streak of white hair, making her laugh a little. “I might not like Gotham much, but I can’t just walk away. I mean, there was a time I would have _died_ for this city.”

“But not anymore?” 

“Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Nothing you don’t really love is worth dying for, certainly not a bullshit ideal,” he replied with a shrug. “Trust me, I’d know. I’d die again for my family, any day – but not for _this_.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding at him more definitively this time. “Who would you die for now?”

He turned away quickly, twisting his whole body towards the city this time and averting his face entirely, so it was in the shadow of his hair, unreadable. That was a loaded question he wasn’t going within twenty feet of, thank you very much.

The answer was there without a thought, though. He didn’t even have to consider it: he would die for his found-family, the only one he had left. Dick. Tim. Steph. Damian. Alfred and Leslie. Her. Any bullet he could take to save an innocent was worth it. Hell, even _Bruce_ was, probably. But he wasn’t about to tell her that, so he forced out a barked laugh instead, covering it.

“Right now, I’d die for a cigarette.”

“ _No_.”

“You’re not the boss of me, you know? I’ll kill who I like and smoke if I damn well please,” Jason protested, turning back to her, fire in his eyes. He stared her down. “Why did you show up tonight? I was only going after Mask because it’s the anniversary of Batgirl’s not-death and I found her crying this afternoon. He deserved it!”

“Maybe. But Stephanie would not want it. She believes . . . in chances.” Black Bat spoke to him sternly now, the edges of her lips flicking down into a frown, like she had forgotten she was angry with him and was only just remembering. Then, she fixed him with a gaze that saw right through him. “You’re trying to stop killing. Don’t lie, I know. You haven’t in months.”

“What’s it to you?” Jason snarled in her direction, irritated she had worked it out when even Dick didn’t believe him when Jason had mentioned that Red Hood hadn’t killed anyone in three months when they were at breakfast the other week. 

“I’ve been watching. I care.” 

She said it, and he believed her. Why she cared that he was trying a new way was beyond him, but he was getting too annoyed to question it. “Well _don’t_. It’s not a permanent thing, just something I’m trying. We’ll all be back at each other’s throats before Christmas, trust me. And don’t watch me, I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do. Sometimes you need someone to stop you.”

“And what if I don’t want to be stopped? Huh?”

Black Bat smiled that cryptic smile of hers, like she knew all of your secrets and still chose to stick around, and put a hand on his shoulder. The weariness was gone entirely. Not that she had any reason to be wary in the first place – she could wipe the floor with him, and Jason wasn’t ashamed to admit it in the slightest. She squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I need to be stopped too, sometimes. But we try. And that’s the difference.”

Jason blinked at her. He could fight, but it was late and he was tired and she was right. He stood up, jerking his head towards the light inside his safe house. “Tea?”

Cass’ smile grew wider as she practically skipped inside, and he followed her with his own wry grin, thinking that perhaps he could get used to having at least one person around he couldn’t lie to. Someone to hold him back when he needed it. 

A Sister.

_But I’ll be dead before you put a gun in my brother’s hands_.

**Author's Note:**

> The song this time is 'Brothers' by Brand New again. and I'm sorry I didn't post a new one in ages, but hey, Alfred next!


End file.
